After seven months of waiting for a suitor from the Yamani Islands to show up, I was beginning to doubt that my plan would ever work. Gazali, in her last letter, had assured me that she would stand behind me forever, and that she thought the plan was as perfect as any plan could be. Christan, too, had promised that he had faith in me and whatever I did. It took a lot of Yamani training to hide my blush when he said this.
It was partly because of Christan -- and Kander -- that I had doubts in my plan. Two years ago (had it really been that long?) when I devised it, marriage had seemed a long way off, and Roald's constant "Marriage is a royal duty" theory echoed in my head. But now that I was faced directly with the prospect of living in the Yamani Islands as the emperor's soon-to-be-daughter-in-law, and the prince's soon-to-be-wife, the whole thing seemed strange, scary, and not a bit fascinating. What if the prince changed his mind, and decided he'd rather have a wife? If he knew about the plan, he could very easily forbid me from going through with it. Even my faith in Gazali couldn't save me from these awful nightmares.
And the idea of marriage was suddenly revisited in my mind. When it came to seriously spending my life with someone .. with truly loving someone .. with saying "yes" to someone special on one knee before me .. I remembered marriage as the childhood daydream, the idle 'fairy story' I'd heard from the Tortallan ambassador's wife. It was exciting, and special, and beautiful; a lovely fantasy all my own. I hated when I had to watch reality catch up with that, and hear the King's voice saying solemnly: "Marriage is a royal duty."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"I would thoroughly enjoy meeting this Gazali of yours," Christan remarked, handing me the battered piece of bamboo paper from the Yamani Islands.
"You will have that chance very soon, if all goes well," I reminded him.
He grinned. "Right. Are you all ready to become me, Andrea?" I loved how he said my name; it was like he was filling it with a new life when his slightly husky voice fumbled with a forgotten Court language of long ago.
"Well .. depending on what Gazali can do .." I murmured, breaking open the wax seal on the letter. I held Gazali's message up to my face and swiftly skimmed through it.
Andrea, I possess everything you need to become Christan of fief Hiera, it read in perfect Common. I smiled. Languages were part of Gazali's training, and she had clearly mastered them beautifully. As you said in your last letter, I should go to meet you as long as all is well, so I am on my way as you read this. I frowned as I saw the next part written in flowing Yamani: was she trying to hide something from Christan and his thieves?
I almost cannot wait to meet this thief of yours. I giggled softly in delight; it would be good to see her again!
"Not too long now," I told Christan, lowering the paper.
"She's on her way?" he asked, for a final confirmation. I nodded. "I thought as much." He swallowed and looked around, as if wondering what to say. I was surprised; I'd never known him to be awkward.
"I .. I suppose I should be back at the palace," I told him regretfully, breaking the strange silence. He made no move to walk me out, only raised a hand in acknowledgment, so I left him there, taking the silent, secret way through the Night Dragon Inn, confused and disturbed by Christan's odd behavior.
I was so deep in thought that I didn't even notice the swift footsteps of the people behind me -- until the hands painted the deep purple and black of the Court of the Rogue grabbed me from behind and smashed my head against the wall.
* * * * * *
"Hurry up, Naxen, you've got to go pamper your knightmaster after you clean your tack," Eryk of Spedret spat nastily, as if the word 'Naxen' was a disgusting insult. Kander didn't even allow his face to redden as he carefully oiled the pommel of his saddle. "Speaking of your knightmaster, Naxen," the fourth-year page, too big for his breeches, continued, "he's a Genlith. How much did you have to pay to manage to get a Genlith to take you, hmm?" Kander continued to ignore him - not haughtily, not disrespectfully, but with simple indifference and unwillingness to be affected by the younger boy's taunts. If he reacted, there would surely be trouble, and as a squire he was supposed to be -- required to be -- above that kind of trouble. Sir Mawren had made it quite clear to him that while the knight visited, he wished for no inconveniences from his squire, and Kander, wary of the fiery-tempered, experienced warrior, was only too happy to obey.
"Oh, look who you picked up, Eryk," Maxwell of Disart drawled as he sauntered in with his nose in the air. "That suck-up of a squire. You're a shame to your fief, Naxen." Kander's mind raced. Surely they would block his way -- he could pummel them, of course, but not before servants and therefore the training master arrived. One boy was easy, but two was a completely different story, even if they were pages. I could lose control of one, Kander thought, and before I knew it he'd be running the palace wailing for help.
His mind suddenly and wonderfully arrived at a solution. He was Gifted, and trained, but Eryk and Maxwell had only their small amount of the brute strength to aid them. With the point of a finger and a strong mental push, Kander burst the ground before their feet into towering flames and headed calmly out the stable door before they knew what was happening. He didn't run until he was outside -- lucky no one would dream he'd done anything. With another bout of fierce concentration, Kander doused the flames and could hear the boys' yells subside in the distance. Silently he prayed for forgiveness and safety for the horses, and asked for Mithros's guidance and the Goddess's cool wisdom. As an afterthought, he sent up a plea for protection, too -- for he had an unshakable suspicion that someone close to him was in danger.
* * * * * *
I opened my eyes with difficulty: they seemed to be sealed with an odd, sticky substance, and I had a feeling they looked bloodshot. I stared in a blank haze around this dim room, if it was a room, and faintly heard a raspy voice say, "Take off the wards -- she's up." With a clicking sound, my senses cleared and I could see that I was in the basement of another inn; not the Night Dragon, because I knew every nook and corner in that place by now, but a different one, a foreign one -- a hostile one. Barrels and kegs of beer lined the walls, and two thieves stood in the doorway, huge, strong, and dangerous. I looked down, and realized in horror that I was tied tightly to a chair. My hands felt numb.
"Aha .. so you've woken up, Princess," a thief greeted me, but not respectfully or cheerfully, like the thieves I knew. This one had an expression of evil delight, so intense it terrified me. I almost shivered, but turned to my Yamani training to guide me now. My face cool, calm, and collected, I matched his gaze squarely, without a trace of fear in my features, while my mind raced as I realized what must have happened. These two men wore the colors of the Court of the Rogue -- but Christan would be their king if that was true. Christan? Christan had done this to me? No .. no .. I trusted him .. we were friends .. or maybe we used to be friends, I thought bitterly. All right, why isn't he here to show himself, then?
My head snapped up when the thief at the other end of the room spoke again. "As long as you're wide awake, little lady, we can begin our work," the thief told me with a villanous satisfaction. "Too bad your bodyguards aren't here to save you."
"I never had bodyguards," I shot back, in a voice not my own. I didn't even tremble.
"Ouch," the other thief remarked lazily. I tried to think: could I grab my dagger -- the one Kander had given me -- from my sleeve? Could I reach it?
The first man who had spoken chuckled. "We've of course thought to relieve you of your weapons, little lady." I bristled and suppressed the urge to shout back -- 'little lady,' indeed! He clucked his tongue, and I was further agitated. I wished I could slap him right across his filthy cheek. "Such a warriorlike temperament is not proper on a girl of your rank."
I clenched my teeth in fury, but said nothing. There was nothing more to say. My insides curdled with fear, and I struggled to keep myself under control. I kept my head up, though. I would never let them take my thoughts.
"I wonder what the King will say," the second thief pondered as the two started towards me menacingly. I stiffened, but the ropes held. There was no escape.
"The King can stick his head in his behind," snorted the other. I didn't even flinch as he grabbed my arm fiercely, nor did I jump in shock when strong hands snatched him and his thug friend away from me and threw them down by a bunch of barrels in the corner. I looked up, alarmed, but still afraid to show it. Christan stood there -- Christan, I thought with relief .. I was so afraid you'd betrayed me, Christan ..
The Rogue looked like a huge angry bear, his subjects leaping into the room from every availible opening. Four of them were already holding down my attackers -- serve them right, I thought with a fresh torrent of fury, I hope they get strangled to death.
"Who do you serve?" Christan asked the enemy thieves, calmly, and as threatening as I had ever imagined him to be. "Who would dare impersonate the Court of the Rogue? Are you bastards trying to be Player folk?" I couldn't help but look up at him in awe as he spoke, and with conviction and an odd sort of pride in him, I told myself I would never want to be his enemy in any way! This new view of him frightened me, and yet I couldn't take my eyes off him as he questioned the enemy thieves furiously. When he had apparently gotten all the answers he needed, he made an unfamiliar gesture to his thieves, who drew their knives. He strode over without looking at me and and wordlessly clipped my bonds with his dagger, motioning to his thieves to wait until we were out of the room -- as if he didn't want me to see. I looked at him quizzically, but he never met my eyes as he led me out into a dim, deserted corridor a few doors away from where I had been taken.
I looked at the ground as we walked, ashamed for getting him into such a mess and being so stupid as to let myself be caught -- after all he had taught me, too. When we stopped, he turned to face me for the first time since I'd seen him burst in, and tilted my chin up slightly with his long, graceful fingers, locking my eyes into his, searching, trying to read my expression. The raging bear was almost gone; now he was the Christan I knew. I still didn't trust my voice, but I tried to look sorry.
Slowly, he drew me into his arms and kissed me, long and hard, putting all the emotion he couldn't articulate into his touch. I reached up and weaved my hands through his hair, his beautiful hair, and he drew back for a second and stroked my cheek tenderly, closing his eyes for a moment as if mustering up his courage for what to say next. His eyes glistened, and if the light hadn't been right I never would have seen him crying. I gave him a small smile through my own tears.
"Don't ever do that to me again, Andrea," he whispered fiercely, holding me close again. "Ever."